Chapter 32: The Trolley Dilemma

“Since you know about Grimde and Tregia, you must understand that using its power… comes with risks.”

The risks were so great that even Tregia had employed his own technological prowess to guard against and suppress it, which spoke volumes about the danger involved.

Yuki nodded with difficulty. “If it were just me, perhaps I could take the risk, but considering Taiga’s situation…”

For a moment, he didn’t know how to convey his inner turmoil to the officer beside him. He thought of several phrases, but none seemed to express it adequately, so he could only hope the officer would understand.

The officer pondered for a moment, then asked, “What about Taiga? What does he say?”

Yuki’s eyes were clouded with unmistakable gloom, and the fervent energy he’d shown while outlining his plan was swept away. “Ever since that day, Taiga hasn’t answered me. Maybe… maybe he’s still asleep.”

The officer’s gentle gaze fell upon Yuki’s somber face. He sighed softly and said, “I see. It’s the trolley problem.”

And not just the classic trolley problem, but an advanced variant.

The original trolley problem goes like this: a madman has tied five innocent people to a trolley track. An out-of-control trolley is hurtling toward them and will run them over in moments. Fortunately, you can pull a lever to divert the trolley onto another track. However, there’s a catch: the madman has also tied one person to the other track.

Given this scenario, should you pull the lever?

When confronted with the classic trolley problem, a large body of survey data shows most respondents, guided by a sense of morality, choose to preserve the greater good—saving five at the cost of one.

Then comes a variant: on one track lie five innocent strangers; on the other track lies a friend or loved one. What would you choose?

A significant portion of respondents change their original answer, opting to save their loved one at the expense of the five strangers.

But what confronted Yuki was an even more advanced version: to save the thirty-odd innocent researchers on one track, you would need to tie your friend—your savior—to the other track and pull the lever to divert the trolley.

Just imagining such a scenario was enough to send one’s blood pressure soaring.

Yuki clenched his fists in silence. Until now, he had laid all his plans out on the table, but he still hadn’t found the resolve to truly act on them.

If it were just himself, he could bear full responsibility for his actions and face any reckless consequences alone.

But now, knowing Taiga might still be resting, dormant within him, he dared not act rashly, afraid to implicate him as well.

Then there were the lives of the thirty-plus people on the station.

Which was more important: thirty lives, or his own and Taiga’s safety?

Human life should never be weighed on scales of value, but when the trolley problem was set before him for real, Yuki could only wish he could kick the onrushing trolley off the tracks entirely.

He looked again at the officer beside him.

Less than twenty minutes remained—no contingency plan could be implemented in time.

The only reason Yuki could still sit and discuss the plan with the officer was because he still clung to a sliver of hope, wanting to see if the officer had a better idea, one that didn’t require risking himself and Taiga.

But, as he expected, there was no such solution.

The officer merely patted Yuki’s hand gently, then opened a tablet and brought up some data, flipping through it as he spoke: “According to the numbers NAXA just sent, the calculated probability of a collision is sixteen percent.”

“To gamble on an uncertain future by taking a certain risk—is it worth it? And I’m not just talking about Taiga, but you as well.”

“Yes,” Yuki nodded deeply. “Even if the probability of collision is only one percent, the moment the rocket and the station collide, that probability becomes one hundred percent.”

As for the fact that he’d read the script before, Yuki found it impossible to say out loud, afraid he’d be taken for a delusional patient. Ever since his consciousness arrived in this world, “Yuki” had sensed a kind of inertia at work.

It was the inertia of Taiga’s original story.

Some things, once the omens appear, become inevitable. On that day, when Yuki opened his messaging app and saw the birthday rocket ad flash across the screen, a boulder had begun rolling down the mountainside, crushing all in its path toward a predetermined end.

He knew what was coming, and to do nothing, to simply stand by…

It was like the trolley problem; legally speaking, when confronted with the classic scenario, the best course is to “do nothing.”

No matter what choice you make, someone will become a victim because of your decision, while the ones you save will serve as witnesses to your crime.

As long as you act, you’re “in the wrong.”

But if you do nothing, remain uninvolved, you stay blameless.

But you’ll have trouble sleeping at night.

Even knowing he’d bear a burden of guilt, Yuki still wanted to do his best for the sake of his future peace of mind.

At that moment, warmth and a slightly rough touch spread across the back of his right hand. The officer patted his cool hand and then left his own hand resting gently atop it.

Yuki hadn’t yet recovered from the contact when that warmth began to diffuse, not just over the touched skin but radiating out like ripples, filling him with heat from head to toe.

“Yuki, if you’ve decided to do this, then be prepared. Remember, you’re not fighting alone. Your bond with Taiga is deeper than you imagine.”

Yuki gazed blankly at the officer’s profile. Even in hindsight, he could only recall that his mind was utterly blank in that instant.

“Don’t recklessly teleport into the rocket. Commercial rockets have no life support systems, nor any reliable sealed compartments. Entering a rocket mid-flight is extremely dangerous.”

The officer, apparently unfazed by Yuki’s brief distraction, continued, “Go to the launch base. If you can resolve the rocket issue from there, all the better. If not, then deal with the rocket itself.”

Those gentle, water-like eyes and words left no room for doubt. At this point, Yuki could only nod vigorously, all other thoughts gone.

“As for everything else, don’t worry.”

With just that one sentence, all the concerns, hesitations, and inner conflicts that plagued Yuki vanished, as if erased by some invisible hand.